It was very pleasant in the woods, and sheltered from the cold north wind, so Algy decided to stay there for a wee while. The twisting brances of the old oak trees made excellent perches, and Algy tried out several for size, but found that they were all very comfortable, and well adapted to the needs of a fluffy bird.

As he perched there under the emerging canopy, swinging his legs and looking around at all the fresh green and gold leaves, he remembered a famous poem by Robert Frost. Notwithstanding the symbolic intent of the verse, Algy was greatly comforted by the thought that in the woodlands, at least, the “gold” would in fact return again with each new spring :))

          Nature’s first green is gold,
          Her hardest hue to hold.
          Her early leaf’s a flower;
          But only so an hour.
          Then leaf subsides to leaf.
          So Eden sank to grief,
          So dawn goes down to day.
          Nothing gold can stay.

[Algy is quoting the poem Nothing Gold Can Stay by the 20th century American poet Robert Frost.]


In view of the horribly cold north-east wind that was howling across the open moorland, Algy decided that this might be an ideal time to visit the woodlands which bordered the loch on the sheltered side of the peninsula. It would be calm on the woodland floor beneath the trees, and exciting to see the new spring leaves.

So Algy flew some distance away from the exposed hills and coast, until he reached an area of interestingly mixed woodland which was undergoing a process of regeneration. A large, mossy log beneath a wee stand of tall, thin larches provided a soft and pleasant perch, so Algy made himself comfortable, and gazed happily around at the young tree seedlings which seemed to springing up everywhere he looked.